PROGRAMMES | LUMEN
9
DINH CAO TUE
It was another twilight , for the Earth and for Ba . The day had not really begun , nor night ended . The delicate shimmering fabric of sunlight tore apart as uncle Ba ’ s rickety vessel threaded through , to the rhythmic splutter of its bulky engine . Ba ’ s eyes darted from the vessel ’ s nose to the eyes of the linhs , eight googly , lifeless eyes like pin-sized peeled lychees . Their mouths were agape , as if trying to suck in the morning mist , metallic and unsettlingly sharp , with all their might . Brows squinted , Ba looked up high and saw a young night ’ s sky , pitch black . His flashlight swivelled like that of a stage , aiming for some worthy stars among the rippling waves of the natural flood . And there they were , a school of linhs , daintily gliding and swishing their shiny tails beneath the laps of water . Gently and carefully , with a little red
Owenn ’ s response to CAP : “ CAP is one of the most enriching and most interesting seminars I have attended . Through various lectures and workshops conducted by renowned Singaporean Writers and professors , CAP really brought writing to life , and gave us young writers a new 3-dimensional perspective on writing . Moreover , the workshops didn ’ t focus solely on the basic metaphors , similes and symbolism . The workshops gave meaning to writing and taught us to think before we write . Indeed , as writers , I feel that we have a great responsibility as even the simplest of details could give a piece of writing a whole new dimension and meaning . People often say the best speakers can convince and persuade someone to take on a new point of view in a few minutes . Well , in the same way , a writer should be able to put across a strong meaning and a strong message , without the need for bombastic language or complicated literary devices .
CAP also gave me the opportunity to meet and discuss things with like-minded individuals , who share the love for writing . Though we could not meet physically , I believe that we still managed to connect and learn from one another . It is also beautiful to see that there are so many individuals who share this common love and passion for writing out there . However , I won ’ t sugar coat it and say that some parts weren ’ t a little draggy . Being online , it was inevitable that we were unable to be fully engaged and it was very hard to truly experience the spirit of CAP . Despite this , the group discussions and sharing of our writing helped to break the mundaneness of the small computer screen . At the end of the day , if I were to have one key take away from the seminar , it is that not every piece written will fully make sense to a reader . Every piece has a story , one that only the writer understands . But does that make reading other people ’ s pieces pointless ? No ! That is what makes writing all the more beautiful .” plastic wash-basket the size of a bonnet in his hand , Ba scooped up the little fish from the dark waves . The water drained away , revealing all the fish , hopping about , one basket full . Ba looked at his catch of silvery thumb-sized fish , then at the spotlight perching above the inky water surface . Heaving a sigh , he lowered his flashlight , pulled the engine ’ s string and solitarily spluttered away , heading off to meet one of the merchants .
Ba then lowered his eyes , and there stood his little house , brick-layered and all covered with a white layer of slaked lime that had fallen in flakes at some parts , revealing the rough perfunctorily-applied cement underneath . One entrance opened to the fields while the other to a dirt road . Tying his boat to a moss-covered wooden dock pole , Ba soon scrambled up the mushy sandy rocks with four fish in the basket . The hot oil sizzled as Ba steadily tossed his wok , sending the fish inside tumbling and gliding around . Then , with a half scoop of rice into a white mock-porcelain bowl and one last squeeze of tamarind condiment on a plastic saucer , Ba ’ s breakfast was finally ready . He settled , holding and tapping the ends of his wooden chopsticks , checking their evenness , before proceeding with a small morsel of rice . ‘ Anh Ba ,’ a voice said , holding a plate of newly cooked food , ‘ here are some stir-fried diendien petals .’ It was the old man ’ s neighbour , living close by . ‘ Come in ’, Ba said , ‘ I ’ ll get another bowl .’ As the neighbor sat down at the table on one of the two blue plastic stools , Ba emerged from the cooking corner , with an identical rice-filled bowl . ‘ You ’ re coughing ,’ said Ba , as he pulled up the chair , ‘ is there anything ?’ ‘ Yao ney muoi gang wai ...,’ said the neighbor , through another series of coughs , ‘ quite itchy .’ ‘ Well , let ’ s eat ,’ said Ba .
The room was silent . Sunlight radiated softly into the room , lighting up the weightless almost-invisible swirls of fine dust in the semidarkness , palpitating to the steady breath of the men . All that could be heard were the clankings of the chopsticks against the bowls and the choppy munches . ‘ Good that you ’ re here ,’ said Ba , ‘ It ’ s better than eating breakfast with just these four linhs ...’ ‘ Same ,’ said the neighbour , ‘ I wouldn ’ t want to eat these dien-diens as themselves . Our harvests of any kind are not sufficient for selling , let alone for ourselves .’ Ba signed , ‘ I know ... even newly caught fish themselves taste a bit sharper than usual ...’ ‘ I agree , it ’ s not that kind of fresh you expected ,’ said the neighbor .
‘ Speaking of which ,’ said Ba , straightening up and squeezing his eyes as if he was about to tell a story . ‘ Here is my only catch ,’ said Ba , pointing at his basket full of linhs , ‘ there are not a lot this year .’ ‘ Well , we ’ ll all suffer from this , whether now or later ...,’ said the young merchant , as Ba and him were squatting on the dock where they planned to meet over Ba ’ s basket . ‘ Did you have breakfast ?’ ‘ No ,’ said Ba . The merchant gently pushed the basket towards Ba . ‘ Bring all of them back ?’ He asked . ‘ Toy ,’ dismissed Ba , smirking , ‘ I ’ d rather only have four .’ Ba could see how the market was full of laughter and chattering , as his smiling self presented five baskets of linhs . Ba then cast his eye on the empty basket , with mere four linhs resting at the bottom . Money fished out , fish exchanged , and Ba was back on his rickety boat .
‘ Well ,... I guess we still need to be grateful ,’ said Ba , ‘ last year ...’ ‘ Yes , last year at this time , the flood wasn ’ t up to our thighs like this ,’ said the neighbor , vehemently , ‘ there was no fertile flood – and we were farmers for the whole year !’ ‘ It has been irregular nowadays , that flood ...’ said Ba , through the swivelling of the chopsticks as he ate . ‘ Look at the dien-diens ,’ added the neighbor , ‘ I don ’ t have much for harvest this year . I had six bright yellow bundles every day during this time years ago ...’
Ba reached for a dien-dien , asking , ‘ Oh , where ’ s “ skinny ” Hieu ?’ ‘ Thang Hieu “ rerm ” ? Inside , preparing the bundles for market with his wife . By the way ,’ added the neighbor , ‘ how ’ s yours ?’ ‘ Well , lern thanh phoh roy ... he went to work in that factory ,’ said Ba . Silence followed . ‘ To think about it , that was the first time I ’ ve ever seen such things happen ...’
A couple of miles away was a milling plant , where Linh was working , alongside many others . He remembered he was pushing a trolley of flour sacks to the storehouse when a rumbling noise was heard . The earth where he stood rumbled and eventually shook . Linh stiffened , squinting his brows and darting his eyes towards the end of the storehouse . The earth tore apart , looking like the peeling of two tangerine wedges with fibrous strands sticking out , uneven and vein-like . Stacked sacks of rice tumbled down in rains of thuds , as the indifferent white light of the sun struck through the cracks on the brick walls , invading the storeroom further towards Linh . By then , he had scrambled away , letting go of the trolley as he dashed back , panting frantically to the roar of the soil . Within ten minutes , half of the room was gone , leaving a dead void behind him and a heap of debris down below . The trolley lay twisted like a burnt corpse , dust-covered .
‘ Now , since the factory has been relocated to Hochiminh City in accordance with the authorities ’ demands ,’ told Ba , ‘ I hope things don ’ t get worse